Narc

. . . penning notes on the back of a pamphlet he had picked up from the sidewalk of the bus stop.  The pamphlet was from the Department of Motor Vehicles and it described the new security measures that the latest identification card exhibited and he scrawled his thoughts over their words so that his words sat atop their linear logic like a superimposed chaos . . . and his words rambled as his thoughts lacked the cogency he imagined them having while they existed solely in his head and he sighed and looked out the window of the bus at the passing sights provided by the cityscape . . . and she looked across the aisle at him and he saw her head move in his periphery so he glanced over at her and their eyes met for a split second before she averted her gaze and he followed suit, turning his attention back to the window, the images floating linearly across its monitor . . . and when he got off at his stop, the bus groaned and moved off down the street.  The evening sky was almost dark now, faded to a deep blue and the street lights were lit and the chill of the autumn air crept over him and he zipped up his coat and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he headed down the street.  A man approached from further up the sidewalk and he experienced the feeling he always had of being watched as he forced into the proximity another person for no other reason than having to share the same physical plane and so he pretended to be interested in a tree that rose from the ground in a square of soil off to the right of the sidewalk and he thought about how November had stripped it of leaves so that it looked like a skeleton of an irretrievable time.  When he judged he was near enough, he looked the approaching man in the face and gave a nod of his head but the man didn’t return the greeting and instead squinted back at him as they passed each other . . .